A Few Planks, A Sail, And A Red Vest
by sandra70
Summary: Finally, Hook has his ship back. Will that influence his relationship with Emma in any way? She wouldn't be Emma Swan, if she didn't worry. And doesn't that old-fashioned piece of garment she finds on board of the Jolly Roger look just too familiar?


"_Isn't True Love more important than a few planks of wood and a sail?"_ ~Ariel to Hook, _The Jolly Roger_

"_She might just be a few planks and a sail, but she's mine. She's all I need." _~Hook

* * *

Emma swallowed and let her gaze sweep over the mighty two master softly rocking up and down in front of her while it was docked to the pier. The last time she'd seen the ship had been about six months ago, during her surreal time-travel to the Enchanted Forest with Hook, and that had also been the last time he'd seen it: at that time – and all the time before after bringing her back home from her New York intermezzo – the Jolly Roger hadn't been his any more. He'd traded it for a magic bean to save her back then. She had learned about that only after the lucky end of their adventure. Now, finally, he'd got back his ship, and Emma knew she should be happy for the man she loved; she _knew_ it. Yet, she had mixed feelings about it, and that made her feel incredibly guilty and selfish.

She threw him a furtive sideways glance and was a little surprised to find his gaze rest on _her_; as always, when they were out in the open daylight – and especially by the water – the remarkable color of his eyes changed into a shade of blue like the ocean on a sunny day. When he caught her look, he smiled.

"Shall we, love?" he asked.

Emma pulled herself together and nodded. "Sure." She motioned towards the gangway. "You go ahead, it's your ship."

Without a reply, he turned around and climbed the movable bridge while she followed almost a little reluctantly. As soon as he'd set foot on deck, he offered her his hand in that old-fashioned, gentlemanly way that was so absolutely Killian Jones. She smiled to herself and took his hand, even though she didn't need his help to board, but let go of it as soon as she was standing on the cleanly scrubbed wooden planks. He looked at her as if he were waiting for something, and she waved her hand hand almost a little impatiently. "Go," she told him, "I'll follow."

Hook nodded and slowly started to walk across deck, examining the structure, touching here and there, running his hand over the polished wood almost like a caress, looking up at the rigging. Emma followed him only slowly and in a distance; mostly, she stood back and watched him, following his steps and moves with her eyes as he was wandering around on the ship that had once been his home for almost three hundred years. But in spite of that, he wasn't moving around like a man who was coming home into his familiar, very own territory after a long time of absence; his moves were more quiet and thoughtful.

When he reached the helm, he touched it almost reverently, and then, slowly, an almost dreamy smile spread on his face. The last time he'd brought his Swan and her son aboard the Jolly Roger, had been a rather dramatic occasion: on their trip from the cursed island Neverland back to Storybrooke, with an unconscious Henry and a very worried and anxious family. But the next time, he swore to himself, would indeed be jolly. The next time, he would take Emma and Henry on a trip somewhere... the boy had already shown interest in learning how to sail, and where and how could he teach him better than on his very own ship? Hook felt a pleasant warmth in his stomach when he imagined how wonderful that would be – to teach the lad how to use a sextant, to show him how to mind the helm, and his love would be watching them with a happy smile on her face... and maybe, one day, there would be little feet pitter-pattering over the planks...

Emma was quietly watching him from afar and saw his smile; she _loved_ his smile, and it lifted her heart every time she saw it – but all the same, right now this smile made her feel melancholic, uneasy and insecure. There was that dreadful voice in the back of her head whispering this smile was maybe a foreboding of something that might pull him away from her... and she realized that the suffocating sensation she suddenly had, were the cold fingers of fear gripping her heart – the very real fear of losing him; not to death this time, but that didn't make it one tad better. He had been a seafarer for all of his long life, and after that long time of abstinence, she was sure that he'd been aching for the ocean already. And even though they had been living together only for a few months now, and he'd seemed perfectly happy all the time, this – being reunited with his ship – surely would turn their life upside down and rekindle his desire for something he maybe even hadn't known he'd missed. But she didn't want any of this, she didn't want their life to change, for it was perfect as it was right now; she didn't want anything to pull him away from her, and she surely didn't want to share him and his love with a ship. Again, a pang of guilt shot through her heart.

She cleared her throat and approached him. "How does it feel?"

He smiled his gorgeous smile at her. "Feels great," he replied, and she could hear the happiness in his voice. Her heart sank a little, and she almost hated herself for that.

She shoved her hands in the backpockets of her skinny jeans. "Makes you want to hoist anchor right away, huh?" she asked almost casually.

He chuckled and shook his head at that much landlubber ignorance. "No, the wind is way too calm today."

Emma's gaze swept over the horizon. "It won't stay calm for ever," she murmured.

_That_ was the moment when he noticed that something was off with her. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head a little. "Come again?"

She shrugged and replied lightly: "Oh, nothing. I was just saying... the wind's gonna change."

Hook raised his eyebrows, not in mockery, but in question. "And...?"

"Well..." Emma rocked a little back and forth on the balls and heels of her feet; a gesture of nervousness, he had learned. "You might feel the desire to be... on the open sea again," she remarked tentatively.

Now he understood instinctively what was tormenting her... and he could have slapped himself for not thinking about it. Really, he should have expected it. He still read her like an open book indeed, and he knew that in spite of the long way Emma Swan had come – and especially with their relationship – somewhere inside her, there was still that lost little girl who'd never mattered and didn't think she ever would. Oh, she _should_ have known that she mattered the world to _him_, and she probably knew it deep down... but he was also painfully aware of the long-term effects of wounds inflicted in childhood days – they did indeed tend to linger. He couldn't blame Emma, and he didn't, of course; on the contrary, it touched him deeply that the mere possibility of losing him would affect her so much. His heart swelled with love for his woman.

He nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off her. "Aye," he replied, "perhaps I might, one day."

Emma averted her eyes; that answer had hurt and didn't really help ease her worries. She swallowed. "And if that happens..." She spoke in a toneless voice and let the sentence hang unfinished in the air.

Hook heard the question mark at the end and told her quietly: "I shall gather my crew and set sails."

She couldn't look at him, afraid to betray her feelings, and just nodded. She hated herself for the insecurity and sorrow in her voice, but she _had_ to ask, and she wasn't even able to feign nonchalance anymore. "And for how long would that be?"

He smiled down at her inclined blonde head and suppressed the urge to pull her in his arms and kiss away her fear; she needed to really and truly understand what he was going to tell her. So, he just tilted his head in a shrug. "I don't know..." he replied softly. "I suppose for as long as your schedule permits."

Her head jerked upwards, her green eyes flying to his. "_My_ schedule?" she echoed.

He shrugged. "Sure. My crew – that's you, Henry, and maybe, one day... who knows..." He gestured vaguely in the air with his expressive hand and let his voice trail off, all the while scrutinizing her closely. He realized that she'd understood what he meant and saw her blushing a little, her eyes growing shiny, struggling with her emotions. Quickly, he stopped waving his hand around and raised it in a firm gesture. "But – don't get any wrong ideas, Swan," he said deliberately lightly and tilted his head, "you might be the law enforcer on dry land, but on my ship there's only _one_ authority in command, and that's the Captain." He pointed his ringed index finger to himself. "Everybody else is supposed to..." – he licked his lips and smirked – "...follow the orders." Of course, he made that sound lewd, but then added in a generous tone and with a wide grin: "But the Fates are smiling upon you, lass. The position of my First Mate is vacant. If you accede to it, it's yours."

Emma had to look away for a moment, her swirling emotions almost overwhelming her: relief, pure joy, _love_. She automatically picked up his teasing, easy tone, because that was what they did, though there was still a little lump in her throat. "Consider yourself warned," she said in a slightly croaky voice, "I'm not really experienced in boating."

Hook rolled his eyes in feigned exasperation. "_Boating?_" he growled, "really?" She grinned, and he replied: "Well, you're fortunate again," he replied smoothly and cocked hit eyebrows. "I'm a good preceptor."

She nodded with a happy smile. "Lucky me. I'm in."

He gave her his lopsided smile in return. "Excellent. You're hired." Quickly, he closed the small distance between them and pulled her into his arms. She followed eagerly. "What derisible ideas did invade that fair head?" he asked and gently touched his fingertips to her temple and then let them run down along her face until they rested on her jaw.

"Well..." She shrugged and shuffled her feet a little uncomfortably. "Don't they say something like... a sailor always carries the sea in his heart? Doesn't the same go for pirates?"

Hook averted his eyes for a moment and nodded almost grimly, his jaw shortly clenching, before he looked back at her again. "Look. I didn't choose that life because I found it so appealing." He released her from his arms, and for a moment she was taken aback by that; he even took one step back from her, and suddenly she realized he'd done that to capture her eyes properly, like he wanted to make sure that she really, _really_ understood every word he was about to say. "I went to sea because it was the only way to be with my brother," he went on, and her ears pricked up while she scrutinized him closely. His blue eyes grew a little darker, a faint shadow swirling in them. "And when I lost him..." For a moment, his gaze swept over the planks, lost in the past. Then he pulled himself together and focused on her again with that slight head tilt that was his equivalent of a shrug. "Well, I simply had nothing to go back to. Being with him had been the only home I'd ever known."

Emma was deeply touched – since Neverland this was the first time he talked to her about his brother, and even then he hadn't really talked about him; she only knew what her father had told her a long time ago – that Killian's older brother had been poisoned by dreamshade, that Pan had led them to the cure but hadn't told him about the consequences, and that Killian's only family member had died as soon as they'd left the sphere of the cursed island. She felt with him, more than ever – not having a home, that was damn sure something she could relate to. When she had tried to talk to him about it, he'd made it pretty clear that this was a subject too painful for him to touch. And now he was sharing that very personal pain with her. "I always believed you thought of this ship as your home," she remarked softly.

"Oh yes, I did," he confirmed with a serious nod. "You know, when we returned to the Enchanted Forest I was obsessed with getting her back. And when I finally _had_ her..." he paused for a moment and raised his left arm to brush her hair behind her shoulder with his hook, almost absentmindedly this time, before he went on: "I realized that it hadn't been the ship I'd been missing. This..." he motioned his hand vaguely in an all-encompassing move and shook his head. "It's just a few planks of wood and a sail. When I had the the opportunity to trade it for the possibility to be reunited with you..." he pursed his lips and shrugged, "that was the easiest choice I ever made in my life." She swallowed, her gaze flying to and fro between his lips and his eyes, as if she didn't want to miss one single word, one single expression of his. "And let me assure you," he added, "when I did that, I wasn't acting as a hero. I was just a man desperately in love." For a moment, they just stood there, motionless, drowning in each other's eyes. "And I realized that I never _had_ a home before." He smiled that tiny smile that was reserved only for her. "But I believe that has changed now."

She felt a shy but happy smile bloom on her lips and nodded wordlessly. Her pirate tilted his head and told her almost solemnly: "Emma, I'm not going anywhere, not even if you push me away." He grinned. "Remember, you've been trying that, and it didn't work." She snorted a little laugh and averted her eyes for a moment until she felt his fingertips tenderly on her face and looked at him again. "Everything I want and need to be happy is right here, in my arms." He reached out for her, and she caught his scruffy face in both her hands, standing on the balls of her feet and kissing him lightly on his lips in a silent _thank you_.

"Shall we go downstairs now?" she whispered against his lips and grinned when he huffed.

"_Below deck_, you mean," he grumbled.

"Whatever you say, Captain," she teased.

He cocked his eyebrows at her and turned around to descend the steep wooden stairs that led down to the captain's cabin. Emma followed him and was automatically reminded of the last time she'd come here, dressed up as a bar wench, a weird mix of nervousness and forbidden excitement making her scalp prickle and the little hairs on the back of her neck bristle.

Hook stopped in the middle of the cabin and scanned the room; he found, to his surprise, that Blackbeard didn't seem to have changed the interior very much. A few unknown items here and there, but mostly, it seemed familiar. He went over to his desk and picked up a small wooden object, shaped like a treasure chest. A faint smile swept over his face when he remembered the story that lay behind.

Emma noticed his expression and nudged his arm to catch his attention. "Are you going to tell me some of your stories some day?" she wanted to know.

He put down the wooden chest and looked at her with a sheepish grin. "Well, they are nothing to brag about, love."

She smiled. "I'm not interested in thrilling, swashbuckling adventures," she clarified. "I want to learn more about _your_ beginnings."

He turned to face her, and the genuine interest and warmth in her eyes made his heart leap. He snorted a little, pleased laugh. "Aye," he replied, "some day I will."

She reached out for his hand and wrapped her fingers around it, squeezing them tightly for one moment. "You okay?" she asked softly before letting go again.

He cocked his head and scratched behind his ear. "One can say about Blackbeard all they want, but..." he shrugged, "he certainly knows how to take good care of a good ship."

"At least something," she commented and looked around curiously. "May I take a look?"

"Go ahead, love", he replied and waved his hand invitingly and continued to inspect the huge captain's desk.

She'd spotted a beautifully carved, heavy wooden trunk, not quite as big as the one Anna and Kristoff had been trapped in when Blackbeard had thrown them off the Jolly Roger to drown, but much more ornately crafted. She ran her hand along the polished wood and tentatively tried to open it. The lid was very heavy, but using both hands, Emma managed to open it. It was empty but for a few blankets and a crumpled piece of some dark material that looked like a garment. She bent forward and reached inside curiously. Her fingers glided over slightly stiff, yet smooth fabric with some rough edges inside; she also felt some metal bits that seemed to be buttons. She pulled the garment out of the trunk and gasped in surprise when she recognized it; never could she have forgotten that infamous piece of clothing, made of shimmering brocade of a red as bright as blood, its smooth surface interrupted by the black floral patterns it was embroidered with. A double row of artfully crafted metal buttons closed it on the front. She had seen that garment on Hook once, on his past self, to be more specific. She felt a blush creep over her neck when she recalled that occasion.

"What is it?" he asked without looking up, her little gasp having caught his attention.

She held the old-fashioned waistcoat up. "I know this vest!" she told him.

Finally he raised his eyes at her and recognized the garment. "Oh, I do remember it. It used to be a favorite of mine."

Emma grinned. "Let me see if it still fits," she demanded spontaneously.

Hook narrowed his eyes with a frown. "How would _you_ know about it?"

She waved her hand nonchalantly, not wanting to sound too eager. "You were- well, the _other_ you was wearing it that evening, at the tavern."

He understood immediately what she was talking about and grinned cockily. "Oh, right!" He tilted his head. "I did impress you, Swan, didn't I?"

"_He,_" she clarified.

Slowly, thoughtfully he ran his wicked tongue along the inside of his bottom lip, its glistening tip peeking out. He nodded. "Of course. _He._" A smirk curled his lips. "Tell me, what would have happened if I hadn't interrupted your tryst so malapertly?" he wanted to know.

"Tryst?" she echoed and snorted. "Please. We were far from that. I didn't even get that promised nightcap!"

He cocked his head in an exaggerated bow. "My sincere apologies. Normally, I never fail to keep a promise made to a woman, especially not such a beautiful one..." He eyed her up and down as if she were wearing that uncomfortable, yet very revealing outfit again, and added: "In such a tempting attire."

Emma folded her arms and threw him a triumphant glance. "Ah, look who's impressed now."

He rubbed his chin with his thumb and his index finger. "Well, the fashion of the past days did have its appeal when it came to highlighting a lass's assets." He threw her another almost lewd glance, and his wicked tongue darted out again to moisten his lips. "And you were very generously highlighting them for me."

"For _him,_" she insisted pointedly.

Hook narrowed his eyes and crinkled his nose in that teasing way of his. "But you knew bloody well it was me."

"Maybe..."

He pointed his ringed index finger at her. "And believe me," he went on, "_he_ would have offered you that..." he paused for a moment and tilted his head again, "..._nightcap_ with pleasure, hadn't I punched him in the face. The question is – would you have taken it?" He popped the _'t'_ a little, in a very challenging way.

Emma shrugged innocently. "I'm really not sure how I felt, it's been a long time..." She raised her hand with the vest and waved it in his direction. "But maybe you could spark my memory?" She threw him a cheeky grin.

Amused by her repeated demand, he raised his eyebrows. "Would that, now?"

It was Emma's turn to lip her licks now, and she told him a little impatiently: "It did highlight your assets."

Hook smirked. "Don't you mean _his?_"

She blushed, and he wordlessly shrugged off his black leather jacket which ended up on the wooden floor. Then, he slowly started to unbutton his waistcoat; this took a lot of time, because it had many buttons. Emma was watching him with slightly parted lips, mesmerized, while he never took his burning gaze off of her, watching her watch him. Finally, the waistcoat landed on the floor, too, and he took the red vest from her hand, slipping it on in a swift move. Despite its double button row, he was quick closing it – centuries of experience had their benefit. Her gaze was glued to his skilled fingers moving expertly over the buttons, and suddenly she was hit by the urging need to feel them on her skin, all over her body. Yes, watching his hand move – whether he was gesticulating, wielding a cooking spoon, or just randomly fidgeting – did that to her, and often in the most inconvenient moments.

When he was done buttoning the vest, his hand slid up to his shirt and opened two more buttons of it, because the v-neck of the old-fashioned vest was much deeper than the one of his modern waistcoat, and if he was going to spark her memory, he was going to do it right. Emma's mouth was as dry as sandpaper suddenly, and she swallowed; the little hairs on her neck bristled. When he was done, he literally posed for her, spreading his arms and puffing out his chest a little, pushing his hips forward ever-so-slightly at the same time, and she had a _very_ strong déjà-vu of the infamous, shameless way his past self had presented his assets. "Does that spark your memory, love?" he purred, and his slightly husky voice shot a bolt of lightning right through her.

Unlike that night in the tavern, back in the Enchanted Forest, _now_ she knew exactly what she could expect to find underneath those clothes, and that it really would excel her every expectation. The blatantly self-confident pirate in that damn red vest had exuded sex from every pore and in every single one of his shameless gestures and moves, and she had been suspecting he'd be living up to each promise of forbidden pleasures; now she _knew_ for sure that her intuition hadn't misled her.

She couldn't help licking her lips and nodded appreciatively. "Not bad, sailor..."

He tilted his head and raised his hand, shaking his finger at her. "Ah... I prefer _Captain_."

She folded her arms. "Do you? Well, _I _prefer a man to give me his full and prompt attention after luring me on his ship," she replied, a definite challenge sneaking into her tone.

He shook his head. "I didn't have to _lure_ you, lass," he contradicted in an mused voice. "You came quite willingly. Because you couldn't resist me."

"_Him,_" she corrected stubbornly, "I couldn't resist him."

Of course, he jumped right onto that confession. "No, you couldn't now, could you?" he replied. "You thought you were just keeping him occupied, but the truth of the matter is, he seduced _you_ just the same, isn't that right, Swan?" He smirked triumphantly.

"Yes," she simply admitted.

He nodded and smoothed her hair out with his hook, almost absentmindedly. "Tell me more about him," he demanded.

"He was a shameless flirt."

His eyes sparked diabolically under his quirking eyebrows. "And you liked it." It was a statement, not a question.

She looked away for a moment, feeling the blush paint her cheeks. "Yes, I did," she finally said.

Hook wasn't satisfied yet. "And?"

She threw him a glance from under her long eyelashes. "He was hot as hell, and he smelled like sin," she answered and glanced at his brocade-clad upper body. She bit her lip. "This vest and the way he moved in it..."

His wicked tongue darted out again. "You wanted him."

"Oh yes, I did," Emma replied in a hoarse voice, saying out loud for the first time what she hadn't even dared to admit to herself, until now. "At that moment, I forgot why I was there. I didn't care that he didn't know who I was or that I was on a mission. I just wanted him." She swallowed._ "You._"

He tilted his head. "Well, I'm here now," he drawled.

She eyed him up and down and licked her lips slowly. Their stares locked, and he reached out and hooked his hook in one of the belt loops of her jeans, slowly pulling her near with a devilish glint in his eyes. She followed with a knowing smile, until they were standing so close that their noses were almost touching. Emma could feel his breath on her lips.

"So, what did you expect me to do?" he asked in that husky voice that she always felt all the way down to her toes.

"I'm not sure," she replied a little breathlessly, and her gaze dropped to his lips. "Maybe something like-"

But he'd never had the intention of letting her reply. Instead, he silenced her by grabbing her firmly at the back of her neck and crushing his lips to hers. Emma gasped in surprise, but only for one second, before she responded eagerly. He kissed her hard, his lips possessive and his tongue demanding, and she had to get a grip on the front of that sinful red vest not to lose her equilibrium. That was partly because his sensual assault shot a weakness right into her knees, and partly because he'd started to walk her backwards, guiding her with his hook that was still in the belt loop of her jeans, leaving her no chance but to follow his lead. After a few steps she bumped into something rigid with her hip and realized that he'd pushed her up against the wooden steps leading up to deck.

Hook's hand remained at the back of her head, his fingers entangled in her hair, like he loved to do, whereas his left arm went around her. He hooked his metal attachment onto the stair right behind her back and leaned into her body with his full weight, his hips grinding into hers. She could feel the unmistakable sign of his arousal pressing hard onto her most sensitive spot, and let out another gasp, muffled by that earth-shattering kiss. Without even being aware of it, she pushed her hips forward, seeking even closer contact, and curled her fingers even more tightly into the fabric of his vest. He pulled not all-too gently at her hair to tilt her head a little and expose her throat to him. Then his mouth left hers, and his lips traced a burning path along her jawline and down the right side of her neck. At the same time, he rocked his hips into hers in a slow, maddening rhythm, and she moaned, cursing in her head the way too many layers of fabric separating their bodies. The feeling of his scruff against the hollow of her throat drove her crazy, the pressure of his hardness against her core was making her see stars behind her closed eyes, and when she felt him chuckle against her skin, it almost sent her over the edge.

He raised his head and brought his face right in front of hers, his eyes burning right into her soul, a devilish spark lurking in the blue depths. "Something like that, perhaps?" he asked in a very low voice, and she had to bit her lip again.

"Perhaps," she breathed, her mouth as dry as gunpowder.

"Aye." He smirked and licked his lips. "Let me see how much you are enjoying your little reminiscence." And he brought his hand down to the hem of her jeans and quickly, deftly opened the buttons. Emma swallowed and felt her knees turn to rubber when she looked down and watched his ringed hand disappear in her loosened jeans and went right under the sheer material of her panties. She drew in a sharp breath when she felt his fingers flutter over her entrance, and her own hands were holding onto his sinful red vest like claws. She knew she'd sink to the floor if she let go, she just _knew_. At the sound of her breathing and the feeling of her telltale juices on his fingertips, Hook hiked his eyes up to hers again without moving his head. He raised his hand between them, and she could see his fingertips glisten with moistness. "My," he drawled slowly and rubbed his thumb over the tip of his middle finger in a circular motion, eyebrows quirking. "_That_ much?"

"Do something about it," she heard herself urge and wasn't even ashamed about it, "you're in charge."

He chuckled again. "That I am," he replied and tugged at her jeans, and she was so impatient that she let go of his vest now and helped him peeling them off her legs, along with her boots. When she was naked from the waist down, she reached for the button of his black jeans, but he backed away from her and caught her wrists with his hook. "Now, now, lass," he commented with an amused grin, "not so fast. Be patient."

When he winked at her and sank down to his knees she thought _oh, damn_ – or maybe she even muttered it aloud – , closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the wooden ladder with a little thump. She knew what was coming now, and she knew she was doomed. When she felt the cold steel of his hook on the back of her right thigh and his warm hand on the back of her left, her legs automatically parted invitingly, as if they had a will of their own and knew what was good for her. And this was going to be damn sure good for her. The first thing Hook did was to wickedly blow over her aching core, and she cursed under her breath. She braced herself for whatever base thing he had in mind for her, but obviously, he wasn't planning on teasing her any further and went right down to business. She sighed almost with relief when she felt his mouth on her most sensitive spot, and her hands felt blindly for his hair to entangle themselves in it. His lips were warm and soft, but firm around her, his scruff grazing the inside of her thighs, while his head rocked back and forth and his devil tongue worked its unspeakable magic, and _God help her_, she even felt his damn _teeth_ graze ever-so-slightly over her swollen nub. The tension inside her was building up in no time, and she could feel the shock wave rise from her toes. Emma bit her lip, but it didn't help. She couldn't help but moan while her fingers grasped his hair and her hips rolled forward uncontrollably, pushing against his mouth. That bastard pulled away for a moment, and just when her eyes flew open and she gasped in protest, he lunged forward again, and after three more strokes of that damn tongue from hell, she was catapulted right into heaven. His hand and hook still at the back of her thighs, he held her firmly and securely in place, his mouth pressed to her core, until her shaking subsided and her fingers uncurled and let go of his hair.

Slowly, he got up from his kneeling position, and after a few seconds she could muster enough strength to open her eyes, only to find his sparkling blue ones right before hers, the skin around them crinkled by a genuinely affectionate smile that held only the slightest hint of smugness.

She was still breathing heavily. "But that's not really a pirate thing to do, is it?" she finally asked, when she trusted her voice not to squeak.

He chuckled and wiped his bottom lip slowly with his ringed thumb, then he put it in his mouth and sucked its tip clean. Absurdly enough, that shamelessly lewd gesture made Emma blush from her head to her toes, she could _feel_ it. "Perhaps not," he replied hoarsely, "but _'ladies first'_ has always been a question of good form to me. And besides..." he raised his hand and pushed a damp lock from her forehead, "you bloody well know that we're not done here yet."

Oh yes, she knew that, of course, and the anticipation was killing her. She stared at his damn red vest again, and for the first time she really noticed the floral black patterns embroidered to the blood red fabric. Suddenly, she thought of the similar patterns on some of the dark shirts he loved to wear, and she realized now why she'd always liked them. She grabbed the front of his vest again and pulled him towards her for a passionate kiss; she didn't mind tasting herself on his perfect lips... secretly, she'd always found that highly erotic. When she broke the kiss, she had some of her composure back, although she was sure that wouldn't last very long. She smiled sultrily at him, and for a moment she was the bold bar wench again, minus the corset, trying to seduce an infamous pirate captain, and not for the greater good.

"Do you want me to turn around for you, Captain?" she asked in a smoky voice, laced with sex.

He shook his head. "No. You will look at me, love," he told her firmly. "I want to see your face when I make you come undone." Those words were accompanied by a look so intense and burning that she had to catch her breath. She let go of his vest and reached again for the button fly of his jeans, and this time he didn't stop her. Instead, he kept watching her with that predatory expression; it gave him an alluring touch of danger, but was softened by a warmth that lay underneath. She was quick in unbuttoning his jeans, too, and slid them easily down his slender hips. Since he'd changed his pirate attire to modern clothes, he'd started to wear those tight retro boxers underneath his always tight pants on some days, but today was not one of these days. When his erection sprung free, she caught him and found his flesh was as hot as her hand holding it.

"I have to return the favor soon," she breathed and caressed the incredibly smooth skin with her fingertips. A flexing muscle in his jaw betrayed that Hook wasn't unaffected by that at all.

"And you will," he replied, his voice sounding only a little strained. "But not now." He stepped closer again and reached down for her right knee with his hook, gently lifting up her leg and draping it around his hips. "Now you just hold on to me," he said and, when she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck with a smile, added with more tenderness than mockery: "That's a good girl."

His right arm slid around her waist, pulling her close into his body, and his hooked arm supported her leg and her derriere a little, the cool steel pressing firmly, but not uncomfortably into her backside. Her shoulders were leaning against the wooden ladder steps, and her left leg had to carry only very little of her weight. Hook entered her effortlessly and with one slow, languid stroke that made her stomach clench and her eyelids flutter. He started to move, and the cabin started to spin. Emma had never made love on a ship before, and she wasn't sure if that circumstance didn't add to the sensation, but then it had become an all-too familiar feeling since she had been together with him. Anyway, she held on tight to him and used the ladder in her back and her foot on the floor to steady herself and respond to his fast and relentless moves and arched her back forward to heighten the friction every time he pushed into her. Although she'd just come down from a real intense orgasm – fueled by their little role play and the highly emotional moment on deck that had preceded it – it didn't take her long to feel another one sneaking up on her again. This time, she felt it prickle from the nape of her neck all the way down to the base of her spine, and her own moves grew faster, urging him to finish the deed. He understood and followed her unspoken demand eagerly, speeding up the pace and adding more force to his thrusts, a feral growl rumbling deep in his chest. The last thing she consciously felt before she lost touch with the real world and broke into a million pieces, was his warm, firm hand at the small of her back, pulling her so close to him that with just one more flex of his hips she completely lost it.

Emma literally clung to him and gasped his name, again and again, while she felt him shudder and relax inside her. They stood like that for a little while, leaning against the wooden ladder, her leg still wrapped around his waist, his arms holding her close to his chest, and their foreheads resting against each other for the sheer lack of strength. Finally, Hook pulled back a little and raised his hand to her face, trailing his fingertips lightly from her front along her cheek and jawline to her skin, his ringed thumb resting on that little dimple.

"You're the most beautiful woman in all the realms with your skin flushed like that," he told her.

Emma let her leg slowly glide down and carefully put her foot on the floor which caused him to slip out of her. Like always, she felt that absurd little pang of loss. She swallowed, still a bit short of breath. "That was..."

"...earth-shattering, for certain," he finished, not one tad ashamed, and she rolled her eyes. "But with _him_," he went on, "it wouldn't have been but a one-time thing. Tell me, would you have gone for it, Swan?" Gently, he tapped his index finger to the tip of her nose.

"Maybe," she replied in all honesty, "I surely would have been tempted. But would it really have been like that?"

He raised his eyebrow in question. "Like what?" he wanted to know and cocked his head with an amused grin. "Why, love, wasn't that enough pillaging and plundering for you?"

"You know what I mean," she huffed. "He had no idea who I was. Wouldn't he have treated me a little more like..."

"A woman is always a woman," Hook growled, almost offended by her insinuation, "even if she might not be exactly a lady." Emma couldn't help but affectionately smile at that revealing remark; but then, she never had known him any different than that. _I'm always a gentleman_. "Besides," he went on. "perhaps he would have perceived something more than just sheer lust drawing him to that wench. No, I suppose that's exactly how he'd have acted." He tilted his head again, in a shrug this time. "But there was no way I could allow that to happen when I knew I wouldn't be able to remember any of it... and for you it would have been too damn easy to pretend it had never happened." He blinked, and for a moment a ghost of long forgotten pain flickered through his beautiful eyes.

Her eyes widened at the meaning of his words, at the casual display of his feelings, and she realized once more what he'd had to go through before she'd finally brought herself to say _yes_ to him, to _them_. She felt stupid tears prickle in the corners of her eyes. "No... of course you couldn't," she replied. That damn, naughty, sensitive pirate. And he was all hers. "I love you," she added simply.

Hook smiled one of his tiny smiles that were so special to her. By now, she had told him more than once that she loved him, but it still wasn't something that fell from her lips easily, and most times when it happened, it was in a rather emotions-driven moment. He knew that the conversation from earlier, when she had admitted to her fear of losing him, probably still was reverberating in her heart – the teary shine in her green eyes was telltale – and decided that a little lightness wouldn't hurt.

He smoothed out her hair with his hook. "Heavens, had I known this vest was the key to your heart, I would have kept it."

The tension was broken, and Emma rolled her eyes, slapping his chest. "Pirate," she huffed, but he could see the smile lurking in the corners of her eyes.

He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows in feigned admonition. "I still prefer _Captain_," he replied and went on generously: "However, I'll let that pass for now, Swan." Then he threw her his heart-stopping blue smirk and winked at her. "But just because I love you, too."

Not much later, they were on deck again, heading for the gangway. Hook checked one more time that everything was in place and the ship secured and safely berthed. Emma watched his earnest expression with a fond smile and asked after a while: "You know what was the key to my heart, right?"

He didn't react immediately, but she'd seen the hint of elation flying over his handsome, scruffy face before he turned his eyes to her. "And what might that be?" he asked with deliberate nonchalance and added with a warm tease: "Besides my dastardly good looks and my amatory prowess, of course."

She rolled her eyes like her mother couldn't have done it any better, but didn't comment on his quip. "_Besides_ that," she remarked pointedly, "you just had to be your annoying, persistent self." She shrugged very casually, like she wasn't just telling him that she loved him exactly for the way he was. "No piece of clothing or any other trickery needed." For once, she'd managed to render Killian loudmouth Jones speechless. With a satisfied smile she watched his Adam's apple bob when he swallowed hard and added with a mischievous wink, pointing to the red vest she was carrying over her arm: "I'm still glad we found it."

* * *

_**Acknowledgements:**_

didn't we all want to know where the red vest of sex had ended up? And everyone I know is longing to see it again, so I thought I'd make it happen. As always, it wouldn't have been possible without the support of my lovely muse and fairy _**Silvia **_which I'm always grateful for! Now on to the next!


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